Black Ouverture [English translation]

Our masters are dead

And we are alone

Our generation is not a generation anymore

Those who remain

The waste and the cuttings

Of a generation which, alas, promised more than any other

Everything in this world is unhinged

Everything

And us, spoiled children

Born for the pleasures of the evening

The softness of the lamps

The twilight blurring the edges

Here we are, in the middle of the apocalypse

We love all that ends and all that dies

That is why, probably, all our friends are dead

Our fault lies in surviving it